An Old Problem – Chapter Fifteen
With that thought in my head I followed Mrs Patel to Mrs Dewhurst office, which had obviously been established as the place any changing would take place. I’d apparently missed something over the past couple of hours because my boss didn’t even bat an eyelid as I was ushered in.
“Paula my dear,” Her Hindi/Yorkshire accent certainly making everything more exotic than I suppose it really was, “I’m afraid our Anthony needs his auntie to clean him up and slip into something a bit drier.”
The word ‘auntie’ sort of stuck in my head. When I was at school I’d heard a couple of my Asian mates refer to all female friends of their mothers as ‘aunties’, which I’d found funny but also rather nice and polite.
“Yes, sure Sunita… do you need any help?” Mrs Dewhurst was rising from her desk and already getting out the various supplies needed.
I hadn’t realised I’d been holding Mrs Patel’s reassuring hand as she guided me to the office and was still holding it as she organised things with our boss.
She looked and smiled at me in a calming way and insisted I needn’t worry as she’d soon have me ‘smelling sweet… all nice and comfy.’
“Do you want to take down your shorts Anthony?”
It was a friendly request but Mrs Patel’s accent made it seem impolite to refuse so I did as asked.
“There’s a good boy. Now Paula, do you have his clean nappies available please and…?”
Mrs Dewhurst already had some of the items needed in her hand and produced the other stuff very quickly.
“Thank you. Now Anthony,” she said so I didn’t feel I wasn’t involved, “I’m going to unpin your nappy… and there is no reason for you to be embarrassed. My son Devansh wet the bed until he was ten… so I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Oh really,” Mrs Dewhurst joined in, “my Julie also wets like Antony when a thunder storm frightens her…”
“Oh, so we understand the problem of possible embarrassment for an older child?” I was naked and she was cleaning my crotch with very cool wet-wipes and chatting away like it was the most natural of situations. It amazed me how quickly this had become ‘normal’ behaviour.
“Devansh’s problem – he was being bullied at school and too scared to tell us. He’d rather wet the bed than admit he was scared by the bigger boys who picked on him. Even now he still sleeps in protection but more as insurance than a definite need.”
“Oh dear that’s awful, poor boy.” Mrs Dewhurst sympathised.
Mrs Patel said all this whilst rubbing in some anti-rash cream and powdering the area prior to my fresh padding.
“You’re not being bullied are you Anthony?” She looked straight into my eyes and as I hadn’t dared say a word so far merely shook my head ‘No’. “Good, we don’t want anything like that here do we Paula?”
“Certainly not.”
Mrs Patel got serious. “You’re getting a little red and sore here,” she said prodding my inner thigh near my balls, “might I suggest you leave the nappy off when at home if you can and let some air get to it. I had the same problem with my Devansh,” she said talking to Mrs Dewhurst, “He wore a dhoti around the house and the loose fit worked wonders…”
“Make a note of that Anthony,” Mrs Dewhurst said pointedly, “wear something loose and cotton or linen around the house.”
She passed the pre-folded nappy to Mrs Patel who asked me to lift then slipped it under my bum. She added a final huge dollop of anti-rash cream on the red area before taking the pins from Mrs Dewhurst. Pulling all the edges together and up between my legs, she smiled in encouragement, as she fastened me in tightly.
Thankfully, throughout the procedure my little cock had stayed as it should do in such circumstances, quiet and mouse-like.
“There, all clean and tidy. Stand up Anthony, let me check…”
“Very nice Sunita.” My boss said admiring her work and slipped a pair of clear plastic pants into her hand to finish the job.
“OK Anthony almost finished. Let’s get these over it all and you nicely tucked in.”
She had me step into them and gradually wriggled them up my legs and over the thick padding.
“There you go.”
I still hadn’t said a word as I’d been dumbstruck throughout the proceedings. I knew it was happening but I didn’t believe it was me it was happening to. However, now she was finished, and both women beamed with pride, I was pulled from my hypnotic state and said in the quietest, childlike voice I’d ever heard myself utter, ‘Thank You’.
“It’s our pleasure Anthony… you never have to sit in a wet nappy when we’re around. And, to avoid getting a rash, I’m sure your mum has told you to get a change as soon as possible.”
I nodded. I’d been told this many times and, as I didn’t much like the feel of a wet nappy, was keen to be in a fresh one as quickly as I could.
I watched as Mrs Dewhurst collected the wet items and slipped them into a plastic bag for me to take home later. Now it was all done I saw her open a draw and pull out the box of Roses chocolates.
“I think we’ve all deserve a little treat.” And she offered them to both of us. “I think you’ve got me hooked on these Anthony since you bought me the last…”
My plastic pants crinkled as I eagerly bent forward to inspect the contents.
Letting Mrs Patel go first I delved in and found the orange crème and couldn’t get it in my mouth quick enough. This time, as I slid my shorts up and over the bulky item, I said to both ladies “Thank You” with more emphasis as the sweet confection burst so flavourfully on my tongue. Mmmm I just love that orangey tang.
#
It had all seemed so bizarre but what was even more surreal was that within twenty minutes I was in a meeting with Phil and Mrs Dewhurst discussing the proposals I’d come up with and everything was ‘normal’.
I mean, I was wearing a thick nappy under my shorts but business was back to how it was and I wasn’t feeling out of it. In fact, if anything, I was being quite creative and many of my suggestions were written down by Phil who smiled and nodded as we discussed and improved on some of those ideas. He made notes and by the time he left the meeting I thought I’d contributed quite a lot to the way the company would function in future.
Once Phil had gone Mrs Dewhurst said how impressed she’d been and wondered if that was down to wearing a dry nappy. Of course she was joking but it got me thinking. Then another thought filled my head; why did I taste that orange flavour all the time. Maybe it was connected to being changed; were they both something I enjoyed… was it a reward of some kind like the chocolate?
Mrs Dewhurst had been all encouraging and at one point said I looked more comfortable, happy and relaxed. I suppose because now everyone knew, there was no need for secrecy and it made a difference. I did feel relieved about it all.
When I got home mum said that she’d had a call from Mrs Dewhurst about the rash and wanted to check it wasn’t getting worse. So I was whisked to my bedroom and the dry nappy (yes I hadn’t wet on the bus home) was removed for mum to inspect the slightly raw area.
“Mmmm, your boss is correct you are looking a bit inflamed. OK, for tonight just wear a pair of your baggiest cotton boxers around the house, let some fresh air get to it and I’ll try you tonight without plastic pants… just a loose nappy and hope for the best.”
It didn’t appear I was getting a say in any of this but followed her instructions though not before I looked up the word ‘dhoti’ to see exactly what it was. Just a very loose and large nappy from what I could gather and imagined what it was like for Mrs Patel’s ten year-old son to have to wear that for a while. Still, if it worked, it worked. However, I didn’t want my ‘loose nappy’ to be like that.
Mum rubbed in some different cream into the reddened area and told me to go put on some cotton boxer shorts. Of course I did as I was told and found an old baggy pair of dad’s that should have been thrown away years ago but, I tend to keep clothes until I have to get rid. They were in my bottom drawer where stuff I haven’t worn for ages (and had more or less forgotten about) is kept. I have no idea why I’d kept his boxers but mum grimaced as I pulled them up my thighs.
“Where on earth have they come from?”
I wasn’t sure if her raised eyebrows were accusing or merely surprised.
They were a pair of paisley boxers which had ended up in a pile of old washing that came to me a while back but I’d never bothered returning them. I’d not worn them just put them in with my other shorts and forgot about them. Still they were baggy and I was sure the air could circulate if I was wearing them. It felt strange that I wasn’t wearing a nappy but mum told me to be aware of what I was doing and regular visits to the toilet were recommended – to be on the safe side.
Just ‘dangling’ was a strange experience after having everything so tightly compact before. The loose fit and no nappy was very liberating and ,as I walked around, the air did circulate and just hoped that would be enough to cure the rash.
Although I’m eighteen I was pretty pleased I wasn’t the only older person who needed to wear a nappy. Both Mrs Patel’s son and Mrs Dewhurst daughter had problems requiring padding so, although slightly younger than me, proved it wasn’t that unusual. Of course, I’d been online to see if there were others who had this problem with storms and anxiety but it was just general information rather than specific people. There were also groups of people who just liked wearing them, which I found bewildering.
Back in my bedroom my thoughts were broken when mum, who was casually adjusting items on the dresser top, mentioned…
“I gather all your work mates now know you wear nappies…”
“Oh, Mrs Dewhurst’s told you did she?” I said with an air of I have no privacy at all.
“She said you were a bit dumbstruck by their reaction but, according to her, everyone seemed positive and encouraging.”
“Yes, they all want a hand in the changing when I’m wet.”
Mum laughed, I wasn’t sure if she knew or thought I was kidding. Anyway she left leaving a pile of freshly laundered nappies in a bag as replacement for work.
#
We’d all been happily surprised that the weather, for this part of Northern England especially, had been so pleasant. We can never guarantee a warm spell never mind the hot spell we were enjoying but it was the topic of conversation as we sat out in the evening air in the garden.
Mum, our family weather forecaster supreme, said that there was a slow moving cooler front coming down from the north, which would clash with the warm front coming up from the south – the benefit of which we’d been enjoying for the past couple of weeks. She said this did not bode well for folk afraid of summer storms and predicted that we were in for some very ‘unsettled’ weather in the next few of days.
I could feel my leg shaking at the news and a sudden urge for an Orange Crème, but quickly made my way to the toilet just in time to witness, a flow I actually controlled. I can’t tell you how proud I was of this small but significant victory. However I returned and asked mum if we had any chocolates left. I’d never seen her look so guilty as she confessed they’d all been eaten.
Later, when we were all retiring for the night, mum came into my room and searched for an Abena.
“I think if you wore one of these loosely taped on tonight it might be better than these.” She touched the pile of terry cotton nappies on my dresser top.
“I’m sure the natural fabric would be better but, if you wet, they don’t help without plastic pants and we’re trying to avoid them. So, let’s see if this will be OK for tonight at least.”
“OK.” I wasn’t going to argue because I knew from experience that, once fluffed out, the M4 felt incredible on.
“Well, we can try them and see… if they aren’t suitable,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “it will be back to a nice chunky nappy and lashings of Sudocrem.”
I didn’t mind either option, a nappy was a nappy to me though was interested in whether the tabs on the M4 would be easy to open and reclose.
I pulled down my boxers and mum came with extra cream and checked again if the rash was getting worse.
“Doesn’t look too bad now… does it itch or feel uncomfortable?” She said as she inspected the area.
“No, if it hadn’t been noticed I don’t think I’d have known… still…”
“Well, it’s always best not to let these things get the upper hand… so…” as I was standing naked in front of her she smeared a load of sticky gloop across my inner thighs, then spread it further to cover my cock and balls and finished with a large splurge of the stuff over my bum cheeks.
“Muummm!”
“Look love, let’s get ahead of this.”
She shook out and made sure the M4 was as fluffy and soft as it could be before making me lie out on it. She pulled the tapes gently together and asked how it felt.
I had to admit it felt really nice and comfy and, after my initial displeasure at mum’s wide-ranging rubbing in of lotion, smiled appreciatively at the final result.
“OK sweetheart, let’s hope that will be sufficient for tonight… ni-night.” She kissed my head and exited leaving me to luxuriate in the soft padding.
#
The night was still relatively warm, the cold front mum promised a good twenty-four or so hours away, so lay under a flimsy sheet and wriggled around contentedly. The looseness of the M4 was most pleasant and I got quite excited as it slipped around my vital but timid parts. The suppleness and soft crinkle as I manoeuvred around getting comfy (and giving myself the most wonderful sensation) was something I didn’t usually get with my terry nappies. I wasn’t sure I’d get to sleep because I was enjoying it so much and ran my hand continually over the spongy sensuous fabric.
I slept badly. Well, actually, I didn’t sleep at all because of two things. I was dreading wetting the bed so every few minutes made my way to the bathroom – just in case. Then on my return, I got back into being delighted in the way the disposable wrapped so silkily around my bits and bobs and kept me in a state of excitement throughout.
There was something else I quite liked and that was the way the blue light from my clock made the bright white of the Abena stand out. Its fuzzy blueness was quite enthralling, especially when I caught sight of it in the mirror. At times, I could only make out the bright outline so looked like it had a detached life of its own.
In due course I looked at the clock – 6.45 – I’d be getting up in 45 minutes but I checked and I was still dry. However, sleep overtook me and when the alarm went off at 7.30 my disposable was absolutely solid, I’d completely soaked it. I didn’t even feel myself do it and what was worse, it had leaked a bit.
I sat on the edge of my bed sighing, I thought I’d done so well but alas, I was still leaking without knowing.
Jenny knocked on my door. “Bathroom’s free” and I heard her bedroom door close. I know dad will have already done whatever he needed to do and mum usually waits until the rest of us have finished.
I waddled toward the bathroom holding the soaked disposable up as it was heavy and in danger of falling down and tripping me up.
Coming out of her bedroom mum caught sight of me. “Oh Anthony… did it not work?”
“Nearly, but I’m afraid I leaked so the bottom sheet…” I pointed towards my unmade bed, “will need a wash… sorry.”
“Not to worry love but has the rash improved?”
“I think so, I mean, there’s no itching or anything.”
“OK, well you take a shower and I’ll check when you’ve finished.”
I ambled into the bathroom and slipped the lock. I looked at my sorry figure in the full-length mirror and sighed again. I looked like a small child who hadn’t quite got a handle on how he should wear a nappy. I sighed again, what a picture.
#
When I’d finished in the shower mum was already waiting and had stripped the bed.
“Not too much damage sweetheart but in future I don’t think we’ll do without these.” She held up a pair of shiny vinyl pants.
I knew I couldn’t have done too much damage because my mattress has had a waterproof cover for quite a number of years. However, I had to agree with mum that it was a mistake to try sleeping without the added help of protective pants.
Mum checked the inflamed area and said that the cream she’d used was doing its job but suggested that today we add a couple of extra soft absorbent pads to my terry cloth as a safeguard. She also said that there were a couple more soaker pads in my backpack with the replacement nappies as a further precaution if needed.
With the extra pads, once the extra thick fabric nappy was pinned in place, there was considerable bulk that I now had to find a way to disguise. I wore a pair of old opaque white plastic pants over it all but wondered what to wear over all that. So far shorts had been the best solution but for a change I tried all my long trousers first. In fact, the only item that hid it with any degree of comfort was the old green canvas lounge pants I’d worn before.
Although I knew Mrs Dewhurst wouldn’t object, I still thought of them as not good enough for work. I rattled through my wardrobe searching for possibilities but then remembered something I’d seen earlier. Whilst looking for the paisley boxers I noticed a grey pair of shorts I’d had since my last days at junior school.
What I remembered about them was that when they were bought they had been too large and loose, mum I suspect expecting a sudden growth spurt that never really spurted. As a result, they were too large for me to wear comfortably and looked silly and floppy when I tried. They quickly got packed away eight years ago and, until this moment, forgotten about.
Surprisingly, even though they were that old the sturdy quality of the fabric held my protection in tightly and concealed it well. So, even though they were schoolboy shorts, they were still relatively new and unworn and more importantly I was made up that there was something that could hide that extra wadding so well.
I was in two minds but practicalities, and time, made me decide they would be my choice. I found a dark blue polo shirt with a nice gold emblem on the breast pocket and thought I looked smart and respectable for the office. As the weather was still nice I put on a pair of dark blue knee-length socks and matching sneakers. Once I slid on my dark blue hoodie I felt I was dressed acceptably for work and no one outside would know I was wearing any protection… well that’s what I told myself.
I didn’t bother with breakfast as I’d taken so long to make my decision and as mum was in the kitchen I shouted my ‘good-bye’, rather than my usual farewell kiss. With my bag over my shoulder I sauntered down to the bus stop confident and relaxed in the early morning sun. As I stood waiting for the Number 134 I realised I’d forgotten my pass so would have to pay the fare. I was shocked when I asked for a ticket to town I was given half-fare, it was only then I noticed the bus was full of school kids, a few lads dressed not too dissimilar to me.
At first I chuckled to myself that I’d got away with paying such a low fare but as I drew nearer my stop I felt that the other kids were whispering and looking at me. There was a group of girls that reminded me of Trinny and her mates. I got hot and flustered that at any moment something would be said and that schoolyard bullying would start all over again. I was glad to get off before they did.
#
Thankfully, after that experience, the office had never seemed so welcoming. I suppose now everyone knew about my ‘problem’ I wasn’t that worried about hiding it despite my attempts at doing so. However, the greeting each member of staff gave was unexpectedly reassuring and the smiles on their faces appeared genuine.
Tommy Thompson was the first to comment that it was nice to be back at the first day of school. This was followed by Greta and Sophia who also commented on my look. They could so easily have been obnoxious about the way I was dressed, because the longer I was in the office the more it became obvious that everyone had noticed I’d inadvertently dressed like a schoolboy. As it was, everyone I assumed thought I was doing it as a joke now the office knew about the nappies and I was taking the piss out of my own ‘juvenile’ situation.
Mrs Dewhurst joined in and asked me to bring my ‘homework’ to her office (giggles all around) but she said how smart I looked but really only wanted to know if I needed a change yet. Asides like that happened throughout the morning but I didn’t get one comment that I didn’t think had some kind of friendly reassurance behind it. They appeared to want to be in on the joke, or at least be as supportive as they could. I have to say that I found this attitude in an office such as this, of young and old together, so refreshing after my incident with Trinny.
As I sat at my desk and worked away like the rest of them I couldn’t help but wonder why I’d decided on this outfit. I must have known I looked like I was going to school because I’d sought out the grey shorts I used to wear. However, I can honestly say, it never occurred to me until the bus ride as to what I looked like. Even in my bedroom at home, when I looked in the mirror, all I really noticed was just how good the old shorts were at hiding the padding, and for that I was grateful.
Meanwhile, it wasn’t only Mrs Dewhurst who complimented me on my ‘uniform’ several of the team said how much they thought it suited me. I don’t know why but I was quite enjoying the office banter even if it did cast me in the part of a work experience schoolboy. One thing was for certain – being a pretend schoolboy in the office was far less stressful than being a real schoolboy at my old place of education.
The End of An Old Problem – Chapter Fifteen.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index
The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html